Unlikely Connections

Chapter Seven - Surveying the Floor

He was furious with himself that he had to admit defeat and flee her company from the detention. The last evening's events had come too close ... far too close ... to overcoming his carefully stock-piled self-control. The feeling of how her heart raced when his hands had come around her was not something he could easily forget; it had been so long ... too long since he had held a woman that way. The power of it was sorely missed. But it was also something he would certainly not allow to happen again.

Severus Snape was a cold, distant, severe man who had complete control over his actions, emotions, and body at all times. Control was essentially for a spy. It was the way he had studied to become, and it was the way he liked his life. Ordered. Strict. Perhaps a bit lonely, but there were more important matters than cheap physical company. He would not risk that control which could jeopardize his life on a ridiculously hormone-driven teenager who merely was desperate for a grope.

It did stroke his ego just the tiniest bit (though he'd barely admit it even to himself), however, that a rather good-looking 18-year-old happened to be desperate for a grope from him. Especially when he was quite certain that all she would merely have to crook her finger suggestively at either Weasley or Potter and either one (if not both) would be more than willing to oblige.

He laughed genuinely, something that a very scant amount of people were aware that he was able to do. He didn't delude himself that he was a handsome man, but as he looked in the mirror and appraisingly ran his hand over his chin, he decided that he was sure he could be appealing enough when he wanted to be. After all, the ability to push tension and provide pleasure was attractive on its own ...

When he caught sight of himself unconsciously trying to pull an alluring face in the mirror, he shook his head to clear it. He walked swiftly to his bathroom and stuck his head forcefully under the cold water tap. When he resurfaced, dripping and quite cold, he rapped his head quite smartly on the spicket. In a string of muttered curse words, he scolded himself thoroughly for entertaining thoughts of becoming physically involved with one of his students. Somehow, he was quite certain that even should he become so foolish as to think he could pursue anything with a student, he severely doubted that Albus's good nature and thorough trust of him would extend that far.

As much as he loathed admitting it, Granger was different. He'd had a few students have silent crushes on him before. Not many, a very long time ago, and all of them Slytherins in either their first or second year. He knew how to deal with a lovesick child. A hormone-driven young lady, especially an attractive one, was a bit harder to gauge. And much harder to resist, he acknowledged grudgingly. And, much as he was afraid to admit it, what Granger had for him was no crush. Actually, he wasn't quite sure what it was.

He ran a comb quickly through his long hair, letting it drip steadily onto his shoulders and down his back. That would serve to cool him off a bit. The raging frustration of not being able to banish her from his mind was tormenting him. But perhaps here, in his chambers ... Perhaps ... perhaps it was safe to let his mind wander.

Get the silly little nagging out of my mind, he thought. Then I can be done with it.

And with that firmly resolved in his mind, he settled himself down, his long lean body stretched across the leather couch where she had sat only days ago trying to make conversation about his art. In the relative silence of the office, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth, Severus closed his eyes and allowed himself to consider the one thing that had been permeating his thoughts and haunting his dreams for the last week: making love to Hermione Granger.

No, he thought with a wry smile, "making love" was not the correct phrase at all.

****

She came to his office, knocking gently before entering without waiting to be told to do so. She spoke no words as she crossed the room. His eyes roamed appreciatively over her body, draped in a long black satin gown that he had picked out. It scooped delicately between her breasts. She put a soft hand to her hair, the curls swept up off her neck, revealing the slender grace of it, allowing the light to pool in soft waves at her throat. The heavy diamonds in her ears glinted light onto his body, hidden by shadows.

He watched her for another moment or two, searching the room for him. Slowly, he emerged from the dark shadows of his bedchamber door and crossed the room to her. He had been in the process of getting undressed when he heard her come in, and so was bare-chested, slightly chilled in the drafty air. His dressing gown was slung over his arm, but at the sight of her it slipped from his grasp without his noticing.

He seemed to take forever to reach her, but when he did he wasted no time in touching the creamy skin. He willed himself not to tremble as he skimmed a hand down her throat and across the neckline of the dress. When his fingers grazed the top of her breast she gasped aloud, making his heart race within his chest as his eyes locked onto hers. He was moved to motion by the passion in her eyes. He pulled her body to his, his mouth demanding, finally taking what he desired. She shuddered, pushing him closer with the heels of her hands on his shoulders, as his hands roamed her body. He raised a hand, knowing now that she would not resist it, and pushed the dress away from her shoulders.

As the material slithered down and revealed her breasts, he felt as if his heart had stopped within his chest. He bent and took them into his mouth, each in turn, with a patience that even he had not known he possessed. She breathed his name in the silence of the room, and the sound of her throaty call of "Severus" shattered his patience.

His hands tore hungrily at her body, his mouth covered hers ruthlessly. He stole glances at her form in between the ravenous demands from her mouth. He fought for breath. Her lips were hot on his, her pulse racing in her throat as he pulled her dress up to pile at the waist. He lifted her slightly and pressed her against the wall, hands digging into her hips. He could feel the excitement leaping within her chest as she responded, her fingernails biting into his shoulders as he ravaged her neck and face with his mouth.

"Oh, god ..." she breathed, "oh, please, let me ..."

He drew back ever so slightly to allow her room. Her hands grasped his belt and tore it away in one fluid movement. As her hands grasped the waistband of his pants, eager to break away the last barrier between her and the object of her desire, he gripped her chin and turned her eyes to his. He craved the look in her eyes when she took his body into her hands.

Her eyes glazed slightly, but hunger flickered hot within them as her body wavered as she freed him from his clothing.

Severus could feel himself waking from the dream, but could still see it, as if through a fogged window. The last visions he saw before opening his eyes were her long delicate legs wrapped around his middle, back to the wall of his office, crying out in pleasure as he plunged into her body. But then ...

Just as they were joined, he raised a hand to her cheek, caressing it gently. She leaned into his touch, but noticed something on his arm that she hadn't seen before. She raised a hand to gently trace the tattoo of a snake curled around his arm at the elbow, just above the mark that had been burned into his arm. She looked into his eyes and he slackened his grip on her, making to move away. She merely traced the tattoo and then leaned down her head, laid her lips on the dark mark, and pulled him closer.

****

Hermione sat up slowly, groaning at the dizziness and pain that were crashing in waves within her head. She lifted a hand to the side of her head and felt a large goose-egg shaped bruise rising where her head must have struck something.

"Unnnnhhhhh," she moaned, rubbing the spot gingerly.

"M'inee, you all right?"

"Bollocks, that looked like it ruddy well hurt."

She recognized the two faces looming just above her, speaking as if through water, but she still couldn't quite process who they were and what they were doing there. She cursed quietly, rubbing the spot on her head again and trying to make sense of things.

Harry, she thought, gazing into his face. She diverted her gaze to the incredulous redhead. And Ron.

Once she had established that she was relatively steady, she stood up.

"M'inee?" Harry asked, as she had not yet spoken.

Rubbing a sore muscle in the small of her back, she looked up at him, blinking a few times to get him back in focus. "What just happened?"

"Well," Harry started slowly, "we were just walking into the common room after dinner and you were just getting back from detention. We talked a bit about Herbology homework and then you just sort of froze."

"Yeah," Ron picked up eagerly, "your eyes got all glassy and you just stood there and swayed a bit. And you stayed like that for a good two or three minutes. Then you said Snape's name, **shudder** and then about thirty seconds went by and you ..."

Ron's voice trailed off as he made vague waving hand gestures.

"I . . .?" Hermione prompted quizzically.

"You ... well, that is to say . . . you . . . er . . ." Ron fumbled.

Harry sighed and picked up. "Well, you sort of moaned a bit. And then, boom, down you went. Passed out cold."

Hermione stared at the two boys, who were flushing madly. "I said Snape's name and moaned ?" She leered at them, obviously disbelieving them.

"Well, not at the same time, really," Harry answered. "But close enough that there was little doubt that the two were connected."

Hermione laughed appreciatively. "Let me get this straight," she said, putting on quite a show of mockery. "I ... said, 'SNAPE!' **puts her hands over her heart melodramatically** and 'OOoooooooooohhhhhhhhhh!' **spreads hands in an overly helpless gesture** and then passed out?!?" Hermione dissolved into a set of uproarious giggles.

"Well, not really," Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck, which was slowly turning crimson. "I mean, it wasn't an 'Oooooooooohhhhhhhh' like horror or terror. I-It was l-like ... **clears throat and blushes** l-like 'Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh,' like pleasure." He shuddered again, clearly horrified at the idea.

"And you didn't say 'Snape,'" Harry added. In response to Hermione's raising an eyebrow, he cleared his throat and finished. "You said 'Severus.' And it wasn't a shout; it was sort of a whisper."

Hermione scoffed roundly before the moment sank in. Then, steadily, her mind relived the images that had struck her before she sank to blackness. The dream. She had seen her first dream about Snape ... but it had gone much further than she had seen on her own. And if she moaned ...

"Oh, dear," Hermione whispered, barely audible. Then, much to Harry and Ron's surprise, she was disappearing through the portrait hole for the second time that evening.

"M'inee?!" Harry called. "At least let us take you to the hospital wing for your head!"

But she was gone, leaving the Fat Lady muttering loudly about rudeness.

"Now what in bloody hell was that all about?" Ron asked, miffed.

"No idea," Harry answered. Then, an ill-contained smirk crossed his face. "Reckon Hermione's having illicit relations with **breathy whisper** Severus???""

The two boys chuckled roundly. Ron clapped Harry on the back, barely able to steady his voice enough to say, "Oh, sure, naturally. And now that you mention the topic, I've got to get going ... I'm meeting Draco for a late night **same breathy whisper** 'study session.'"

Harry chuckled in response as both boys reluctantly pulled out their Potions essay homework.